


Your Dog

by angelofthetrench



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Abuse, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 12:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5869426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofthetrench/pseuds/angelofthetrench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miami AU. Summer was nothing more than Rick's dog. He would kick her, but he would never set her free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Dog

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Miami AU I (wubbalubbabullshit.tumblr.com) and rois-demain (also at .tumblr.com) came up with. If you have any questions about it feel free to ask one of us on tumblr, or comment below! I hope you enjoy.

It was dark in the room, the only light was what slipped in from the city beyond her windows. She preferred it like this, she didn’t want to see herself, didn’t want to see what he had done to her.

 

Summer wondered why she stayed, _how_ she could stay. She loved Morty, she had run away to look for him, but now she wished she had never found him. The pain on the road had been nothing compared to this, because at least there had been some glimmer of hope. Now there was nothing but the reality, the cold crushing truth that Morty was no longer a prostitute but the abused little plaything of their grandfather. And she was no better.

 

Risking a glance down she cringed. All she had on was a tube top under a neon pink jacket, and she could see the damage Rick had done to her tinder flesh. There were bruises, deep purple and large, but the worse of it was the rib that was out of place, bending inwards. She pushed it in further, a strangled cry breaking through her lips. She wanted it to puncture her lungs, she wanted her chest to collapse and fill with blood. She wanted the pain to get worse, so bad she couldn’t take it, so bad she couldn’t think anymore.

 

How could he do this to them?

  
  
Maybe she had only imagined the kindness from her childhood. It had been what drove her here, to his doorstep. Long lost Grandpa Rick, who had kissed her cheek as a baby, who had held her high above his head, who had only been kind and funny. Had it been nothing but a dream, a fantasy created from her desperate need for some kind of family in this vast, brutal world? That had to be it. A man like him could never have a gentle touch.

 

But she still craved his hands on her. Be it him hitting her, kicking her, or kissing her, using her like he used her little brother. The thoughts made her sick, but God did they make her feel, and that was all she needed.  She needed something primal, she was so empty, so numb. She knew if he ever fucked her she would cry, she would vomit, she would claw her skin from her bones. Yet she wanted it, prayed for it every night before she went to bed, threw herself at his feet, begged for him to hurt her. Because it was the only way she could get close to him and Morty. She lived with them, she laughed with them, ate with them, breathed the same air as them. But she would never be with them, and it tore her apart.

 

She was completely alone in this world, more alone than she had been when she was wandering. Back then she had the memories, sweet and untainted, as pure as her childish hope and innocence. Now those were corrupted, fake, they were the dreams that plagued her like nightmares. They were harsher than reality. It was best not to think on them anymore.

 

Could she push Rick to kill her? The idea always made her heart quicken, like she was falling in love, but she knew he never would. She was his dog, he would kick her, but he wouldn’t put her down. Could she run away? No, he would chase her. Or the more likely, horrific alternative was he would let her go. Could she storm back into his room, screaming, and hope for a round two? Could she get him to bash her face into the wall, get him to choke her frail little neck? Possibly. And she wondered if, after that, when her face was swollen and her teeth missing, would the boys at the beach still call her pretty? Did she even want them to? She wasn’t sure, but she told herself she did. She was a vain little slut, she wanted to be adored. Because in the men’s adoration, in their eyes, she could see herself again, see the girl from so long ago that wasn’t quite lost. Not yet.


End file.
